


Out of the Pitt, Into the 'Burgh

by Wagontrain



Series: Messiah in Absentia [2]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Dark, Fallout: The 'Burgh, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagontrain/pseuds/Wagontrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days following the Lone Wanderer's liberation of the Pitt Milly and the other slaves find themselves free, but thrust into a much larger and more dangerous world than they'd ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Pitt, Into the 'Burgh

Wild Bill was exactly where the Wanderer said she’d found him, sprawled out in a filthy corner of the Steelyard. Milly crept towards him carefully; even though the Wanderer had said she’d been careful about killing off all the trogs she’d come across, Milly didn’t fancy her chances of surviving any that she may have missed. 

“Oh, Bill.” The trogs had only worried the body a little, and his expression was…not _peaceful_ , but serene in a way. Brave, stupid Bill. Everett had made the same demand as always: “ _Buncha steel ingots in the Steelyard. One of you’s gonna bring them back and be rewarded, or one of you’s gonna die._ ” On that day the slaves had run out of people they hated or who were already dying to sacrifice to the Steelyard, and Milly could feel Medea’s eye’s on her when Wild Bill stepped up. _Stupid bastard. Stupid noble bastard._ He’d died and Milly was still here.

She found his revolver stashed in his belt, empty but for the bullet casings. She stuffed the pistol into the back of her pants. _Thanks for that, too. I’ll need to get bullets for it later._

It took some doing, but she managed to get Bill’s body up over her shoulders. In the Pitt a slave’s death meant that all the other slaves ate meat that night. _Bill died like a free man,_ Milly thought. _Free men get more respect._ After twenty minutes of climbing and struggling, Milly laid Bill’s body at the lip of the yard’s largest smokestack. “Wish I knew something to say here,” she said to his body. “You were a good man. Thanks for making the Pitt less of a horrible place.” She wedged the toe of her shoe under his ribs and rolled the body over the side. It disappeared over the side, and a few seconds later Milly heard a dull thud that told her Bill had reached his final resting place.

The sun was trying to muscle its way through the haze of smog overhear as she made her way out of the Steelyard. The Pitt was never bright, but with the mills quiet these last few days it seemed just a bit less dark all the time. As she exited into the Pitt itself she heard yelling; furious voices that reminded her of the riots just a few days ago. _But the raiders are dead,_ she thought, drawing the empty pistol. _We killed them. Ashur and O-Dog and Everett and his fucking ingots._ She made her way to the center square, and felt her heart stop at the sight of Ashur himself on the catwalk above; it was only when she saw his eyepatch that she realized it was Wernher wearing Ashur’s gold-and-black power armor, and that the woman next to him was Medea in her rags, not Dr. Kundanika in her lab coat.

Milly joined the crowd, and spotting Adan rapped him on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“The Wanderer fucked us,” he said, nodding towards Wernher. 

“She doesn’t have a boat, so we figure she didn’t go west, or north or south,” he was yelling. “She must have headed east. Probably trying to get back to the Capitol Wasteland where I found her.” 

“It’s not like she was gonna stick around forever,” Milly muttered. “What’s everyone so bent out of shape about?”

Adan shook his head. “She didn’t just leave, Milly. She stole the Cure.”

 _No. No, that can’t goddamn happen._ She felt the sores Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion had left on her body pulse with pain at the reminder. _I really am going to die from this shit._ “But why would she do that? The Wanderer knew we all have TDC, and the Cure’s the only way we’re gonna get better…”

“It is what it is,” Adan muttered.

“When we started our uprising, I told you we’d be free men. Free of Ashur, free of the raiders, free of _disease_. The Wanderer decided she didn’t _want_ us to be free!” The free men rumbled at that. _Fuck_ her! I don’t want to have TDC! I don’t want my kids to have it! We have to get the Cure back from her! We are _getting_ the Cure back!” _How dare she? I trusted her, I thought she was like Bill. She didn’t want to help us at all, she just wanted the Cure for herself._ “She’s somewhere in the ‘Burgh. Could be going down the Boulevard of the Allies, could be looking for protection from Skworuhill, could even be making a break for the Homestead. Find her. Bring the Cure back. Whoever comes back with it is set for life. Real food, supplies, whatever you need. Make it happen.”

*

Three days ago, everything had been fine.

Lulu had been at the top of the goddamn world. Make sure the slaves were in line and doing what they were supposed to be, eat some noodles, relax. That was all before some crazy bitch from down south showed up. Lulu hadn’t given the Wanderer any more thought than she did the rest of the slaves, but she’d only been in the Pitt for a day or two before she convinced the raiders to let her join, murdered Lord Ashur, shot Lulu in the arm and kicked over the entire fucking Pitt.

Lulu was willing to admit that perhaps the raiders needed to improve their recruitment standards.

Now, Lulu was in a cage too small to sit down in, bolted to the side of a building. She couldn’t relax, she didn’t have noodles and the slaves were way, way out of line. The slaves were in a frenzy of trying to figure out how to be people, and as far as she could see were failing miserably. There was always at least a few of them around the cage, poking her or shaking the cage any time she began to fall asleep. That’s what actually convinced her that the slaves were fucking savages. Who would be so cruel that they wouldn’t even let her sleep?

“…from there, aren’t you?” 

“I’ve been there once, but I wasn’t even five…”

The voices roused her, and Lulu struggled to open her eyes. She recognized Wernher and Midea immediately but the third person took her a moment to recognize. Her face was craggy with TDC scarring, and she her hair was all cut off on the right side and the rest of it was stained pink. Mattie or something. Lulu never bothered with their names. “Well…how are Lord Ashur’s pets…today?”

Midea only glared at her, but Wernher smacked the cage, making Lulu jump. “We’ve got a use for you, raider.” Now that was interesting. “You’ve been to the Strip District.”

It was more a statement than a question. “I’ve been there. Sometimes the lord would send us to trade on the markets on Penn, or to pick up bad runaways from the wildmen.” 

Wernher nodded, coming to a decision. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the cage, letting Lulu spill out onto the ground. She tried to push up on her elbows, but her right wouldn’t take the weight; she wasn’t an expert, but Lulu was pretty sure the slowly-spreading green blotch around the bullet wound the Wanderer left her wasn’t healthy. Feigning ease, Lulu reclined on her other elbow and eyed Wernher warily. He continued. “You’re going to lead Milly here to the Strip District.”

“You were a lot more fun when you were a raider, Wernher. You had a sense of humor, you weren’t whining all the time, we fucked…” Lulu grunted at Wernher’s boot toe driving into her side. “Oof. Fine, we’re going to the Strip District. What’s in it for me?”

“Come back with the Cure and I set you free.”

“Or we get to the Strip District and I just disappear into the crowds.”

A hard pressure at her temple jerked her head aside, and out of the corner of her eye Lulu could see the long barrel of a revolver, held by Milly. “Wernher said I can’t kill you just yet. Wernher says you can be useful. But fuck if I don’t want to blow you across the street, raider.”

“Wernher says all that, huh?” Lulu let her arms go and collapsed out onto the pavement. “Fine. Gimme a blanket and a couple of hours of shuteye and-” She cut herself off with a screech as Wernher’s boot came down on her bullet hole. “ _FUCK_ , all right, I’m going!”

“That’s better.” Wernher let off. “Midea, get her the backpack with ‘supplies.’ It’ll help our friend here remember her _place_.” The other woman helped Lulu to her feet and Wernher pulled Milly aside. It was hard, getting the pack’s straps over her useless arm and also eavesdropping on their conversation. “I don’t need to tell you how important this is, Milly. Without the Cure…”

“We’ll never be free of TDC. I’ll get it back, if I have to stomp on the Wanderer to get it. We’re free men, we deserve this.” Lulu’s eyeroll at Milly’s enthusiasm turned into a grimace as Midea tightened the straps. 

“Good. In the meantime though, we’re going to have to restart work at the foundry. If the Strip District, or God help us the Stillers decide to make a move while we’re still getting ourselves together…”

“Restarting work? But that’s…we’re done with that, we’re free men.”

“I know. I know.” Wernher put his arm on Milly’s shoulder. “It’s only temporary, just as long as we’ll need to defend ourselves. It’ll be done as soon as we can get the Cure back and have something to bargain with.”

“All right.” Milly glared at Lulu and waved the pistol towards the gate. “Get walking.”

Lulu trudged to the gate, the weight of the pack pulling her down. “What the fuck did you put in here? Rocks?” One of the slaves pulled open the gate for her, and she got fifteen or twenty feet outside before she realized Milly wasn’t following. When she turned around, the slave was standing just in front of the gate, her eyes flicking from one empty guard post to the other and fear in her expression. “Oh, for…pet! No one is going to shoot you! Heel!” That seemed to rouse Milly, and with a scowl she stepped out of the Pitt and in to the ‘Burgh.

*

“I don’t know what this fucking back pack is about,” Lulu groused for the hundredth time. “It’s not like the Strip District is actually that far.”

Milly ignored her for the hundredth time, looking nervously from a crude map to the buildings around them. “Wernher said…walk out of the gates, turn left…keep going?” Massive, soot-black buildings loomed around them, and Milly glanced from one to the other in futile search for landmarks.

“House pet doesn’t know how to get around outside,” smirked Lulu.

“Shut up.” _Fuck. Fuck fuck._ The way left was blocked by an entire building fallen on its side. Milly turned the map in her hands so that the rivers made a ‘V.’ “Is it like this?”

Lulu sat heavily on the ground, leaning back to take the weight of the pack off her shoulders. “Pet. Come here. Bring th-” The gun was in Milly’s hand faster than she knew and Lulu froze, her stupid half-smirk dropping off of her face. 

“I’m not going to tell you this again.” Her hand shook, but Milly kept it aimed dead at the other woman. “I’m a free man. None of your ‘pet’ bullshit. I’m no one’s pet. You call me by my _name_.”

Lulu nodded slowly, her eyes not moving away from the barrel of Bill’s revolver. “All right. Not a pet.”

Milly lowered her arm, enjoying just how totally the gun captured Lulu’s attention. _Maybe I make you my pet. How would you like that?_ “We have to go left.”

“Looks like a bit of a climb.” Lulu sized up the slab of shattered concrete. “Why not go around it?”

“Wernher said go left.”

“Real good at taking orders. Look here.” Milly scowled, but put the map in Lulu’s outstretched hand. “Yeah. This was O-Dog’s.” Her finger stabbed at the worn cloth, at a spot near where the two rivers met. “The Pitt is _here_.” Milly nodded. “You wanna go to the Strip District. It’s _here_.” Lulu dragged her finger across the map, to the east. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to climb that building. So let’s just go around it-” her finger dipped to the south, almost to the river, before pulling back up to reach the symbol that meant the Strip District.

Milly’s brow furrowed. “Why not go around the other way? North around the building instead of south, it’s not as far.” The look on Lulu’s face brought her up short.

“If you want to go walking into Warhol territory that’s your business,” Lulu said quietly. “You may not believe it, but there are things worse than being a pet.” _She’s lying._ Milly thought immediately. _Working an angle, or…no. She’s more scared then when I had the gun on her._

“Fine. We’ll go south.” Milly watched as Lulu pulled herself to her feet, and gestured with the gun. “After you.”

They walked in silence for a while, making their way through the broken streets. Everything was so different than the Pitt; still ruined, sure, but without the shitty scaffolding of the Pitt Raider’s walkways hanging off of every building. The sky overhead was dark, the thick smog blocking out the sky completely. _And the trolly tracks! Just laying in the street. It’d take us weeks to pull it all up!_ Milly scowled at the thought; free men don’t cut metal for the Foundry.

She could feel the river before she saw it; buzzing irritation, like standing too close to a fire. “What _is_ that?”

“Radiation,” Lulu answered. 

“Like the stuff that makes food bad?”

“Yeah, except…shit. Take a look.” Lulu lead Milly to the edge of the road and leaned over the concrete barrier. As Milly peeked over she felt a blast of the irritation across her face; the water of the river below _glowed_ a sick green. “Ashur used to say that this place was a city. Hundreds ‘n thousands of people living here. But then one day the fire came. There used to be a whole bunch of mills along this river, the Mon, and now there’s a crater for each fucking one.” 

Milly watch the weird light play against the underside of one of the bridges spanning the river. “I always wondered what made that light at night.”

“It’s fucking poison.” Lulu shot back. “Get back from there. You’re ugly enough with the TDC, you don’t want to see what the radiation’ll do to you.”

They put the bridge to their backs and walked on. Before too long, Lulu pointed to a road raised up off the ground, on stilts. “That’s it. Crosstown Boulevard. We can take it to the Strip Dis-” A flash of movement further down the road caught Milly’s eye and she lunged at Lulu, dragging her down behind a burned-out car. “Fuck! What?”

“Shut up!” Milly hissed. _Raiders! They’re looking for me, must have been away from the Pitt, we didn’t get them, we-_

Lulu poked her head over the hood. “Oh. Wildmen. They’re pussies, just shoot a couple of ‘em and they’ll go away.” 

“Are you _crazy_?” Milly gaped.

“Oh, that’s right. You see a guy with a gun and figure he’s a raider.” Milly scowled at that. “Seriously, these guys are assholes. We never even bothered rounding them up to work in the Pitt ‘cause they’re stupid wastes of flesh. You gotta gun, fucking use it.”

Milly’s fingers wrapped around the pistol’s grip, but froze. _Bullets. I never got bullets for it._ She relaxed her hand and looked around the car. They were getting closer. She glanced back at Lulu and made a decision. “We’re gonna hide.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lulu rolled her eyes, but followed Milly as she crept back into better cover. “I’m fuckin’ glad the other raiders are dead, or I’d never hear the end of this.”

*

They dodged three more wandering packs of wildmen before Milly’s courage broke and she pulled them into one of the buildings off the Boulevard. “We can stay here for the night.”

Lulu cast a disbelieving look up to where the sky was slowly shifting from the normal daylight murky darkness to just plain darkness. “Yeah, it might be _dangerous_ if we go out in a night.” Her tone was mocking, but she was quietly happy that the pet had the sense to call a stop. She was exhausted, and there were any number of nasties out there just waiting. The building Milly had picked had been an office of some sort, but the only thing that mattered was that there was only one door in and plenty of shit inside to pile in front of it.

Her arm was throbbing as Lulu sat down, and she grunted as the force of her ass hitting the ground worked its way up to the bullet hole. “Fuckin’ Wanderer!” she hissed.

Milly was watching her. The bitch could see the angry green of infection spreading across Lulu’s whole upper arm and didn’t say a goddamn word about it. Didn’t offer to help or anything. Shit like that was why Lulu didn’t feel sorry for the pets. No manners at all.

“Were you always a raider?” Milly asked abruptly. 

“You kidding me?” Lulu asked. “We havin’ a slumber party now? I’m warnin’ you, your pigtails are gonna be lopsided since you got half your hair cut off.”

“I want to know if you were ever not an asshole.”

Lulu grinned. “Nope.” Milly touched the grip of her revolver. “Fine. I’m…” she hesitated, trying to decide if the other woman was bright enough to figure out she was being lied to. “I’m from the Vault.”

“I haven’t heard of it.”

“That’s because you’ve been a fucking slave all your life.” Milly’s eyes went flinty at that, and Lulu made a little note about how far the other woman could be pushed. 

“Is everyone from the Vault a raider?” 

“Not even close. Most folks never leave. Got no reason, it’s a goddamn paradise.”

“How come you did?”

“I got bored,” Lulu shrugged and regretted it instantly. “Wanted to see the world. Got out here, figured out what a shithole the real world is and hooked up with Ashur. You know the rest.”

Milly’s eyebrows were coming together in a way that was starting to look dangerously like thinking. “If it’s so great there, why didn’t you go back?”

“Oh, you can’t. The Vault’s a big legend out here in the ‘Burgh. They think it’s goddamn magical, so to keep it safe leaving is a one-way trip.” She shifted her position and pain jolted up her arm again. “Listen, can I…can I take this fucking pack off?” Milly shrugged, and Lulu swore the other woman had an amused gleam in her eye as she struggled to get out of the bag’s straps without hurting herself any more. “What’s in this thing, anyway?”

“Mostly rocks.”

“What?” Lulu pulled open the bag’s zipper, spilling out chunks of concrete. “You fucking bitch.”

“Slumber party’s over, _raider_ ,” Milly said, gloating. “Get some sleep. We got some walking to do in the morning.”

*

At first, Milly didn’t understand what she was seeing.

The devastated buildings of the ‘Burgh gave way to buildings that were repaired and cared for, but no gates or guards barred Milly’s entrance. She stepped unimpeded into the Strip District, marveling at the idea. _They can come and go as they want? That’s so strange._ Cautiously, she made her way down the thoroughfare of the Strip District itself, Lulu at her heels. There were more people than she had seen in one place before; selling goods, haggling or just talking. _They look tired,_ Milly thought. _Worn and hungry, angry and desperate. But none of them look scared._ Realization dawned on her. _This is what free men really look like._

“University Tech rad meds! No such thing as better quality than this!”

“Pigeon on a stick! Plucked this morning!”

“Fresh apples from upriver!”

“So…” she started. “Where do you think the Wanderer would be in all this?”

“If she’s here at all?” Lulu grunted. “Could be anywhere. Picking up supplies on here on Penn or one street over on Smallman, or if she’s planning to stay a while she’d probably try to get a room at the Cork. It’s the nicest place around here that isn’t straight up owned by the Commissioners.”

“Well…” Milly looking down the row of vendors. “If it’s anything like the Pitt, the people here will know each other well enough that the Wanderer will stick out. We’ll ask around.”

“Yeah, I can’t see any problem with that at all.” 

Milly approached the first stall on the thoroughfare. The seller, and the man buying both wore breather masks that hid their faces. “Hey. Have you seen a woman with dark hair, big huge backpack full of stuff and a ba-”

The seller looked at her, suspicion in his eyes. “What are those sores?”

“Holy shit,” the other man gasped through his mask. “It’s a trog. Constables! Help!”

“What? I’m not a-” Both men were backing away from her, and the other people in the thoroughfare were making space. Milly cast about desperately and caught sight of Lulu backing away into the crowd. “Lulu! Tell them I’m not a trog! I’m…” Two people in matching body armor pushed through the crowd of gawkers and Milly took an involuntary step back. _They’re not raiders, but oh they move the same. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck._ The older of the two, a woman, seized Lulu by the arm. Lulu struggled a moment, but the constable’s grip dug into her wound and she settled down with a low cry.

“Want me to put it down, Rhoda?” the other constable asked, drawing a pistol and sighting at Milly. She couldn’t make out his expression behind his breather mask, but his tone was just _bored_.

“No sense wasting the bullet,” his partner answered. Milly stumbled back but the man caught her by her slave harness. “Ugh. This one got out of the Pitt. No wonder it smells.” 

“She’s a disobedient pet,” Lulu purred.

“We’ll deal with you next, raider,” Rhoda answered. “Kazansky, we don’t need Pitt trash in here. Take care of her.”

The first blow exploded stars behind her eyes and she would have fallen flat if not for the constable’s firm grip. Milly reeled in time to see Kazansky swing at her again and suddenly blood filled her mouth. 

Abruptly she was on the ground, curling to ward off blows. It took her a moment to realize they weren’t coming, and she cracked open an eyelid. _What…?_

The constables were standing back, fists locked, but their attention was on a pair of newcomers instead of Milly. One of the newcomers was a man dressed in sturdy black armor and a breather helmet, a shotgun held before him with feigned ease. Milly could see a tattooed “L” on the back of his right hand, shifting minutely as he flexed his fingers on the weapon’s grip. The other person was outright strange to Milly’s eyes; she was a woman wrapped in soft, black fabric -a dress?- with a scarf draped over the lower half of her face. All that was visible was her pale blue eyes and black hair. Lulu was free and watching the scene before them with a look Milly recognized as the one raiders always had when they were thinking of fucking each other over. 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Leslie,” Rhoda was saying, “We thought…someone said it was a trog.”

“And being the _finest_ of Pyotr’s constables, you were able to confirm this through your powers of observation,” Leslie answered drily. The other constable made to step forward, her hands open in supplication, but a slight motion from the bodyguard’s shotgun stopped her cold. “You. Trog. What’s your name?”

“Milly.” _Don’t free men have family names?_ “Milly Free.” _Perfect._

“There now. Have any of you heard of a trog with a name? Who talks? Clearly this woman is an unfortunate guest to the Strip District, one who has been gravely mistreated.” She leveled an icy glare at the constables. “Give her your masks.”

“What…both of ours?” The constables glanced at each other, and Rhoda continued: “Couldn’t she just…take his?”

Leslie did not appear amused. “I wouldn’t want our guest’s friend to be without one.”

Hesitantly the constables pulled off their masks and offered them to Milly. _They don’t like me, but they’re not willing to say no to her._ She pulled on one of the masks with as much hesitation as the constable had pulled it off. “Thank you,” she said. _Am I thanking them for the masks, or her for making them give them to me?_

“Get out of my sight,” Leslie ordered and the constables fled, hands over their mouths. “And you…” Leslie looked Milly up and down. “Come.” She turned and walked off, her bodyguard at her heels with Milly and Lulu trailing behind. It was then that Milly noticed the strangest thing about the woman. _It’s not her fancy clothes or the power she has. She’s not_ dirty _. I’ve never seen anyone so clean before._

*

Leslie left her bodyguard at the door of her home. It looked like it had been a small chapel once, and Lulu saw the words ‘Altar Bar’ painted over the door. The bodyguard gave her and Milly a distasteful look as they passed. “Don’t be jealous,” Lulu smirked.

“Make yourselves at home in the living room,” Leslie said. “The area in the back is Micah and his sister Esther's, and upstairs is mine. Stay out.” It was a huge space for just two people, and Milly’s wide-eyed look suggested she thought the same. It’d been done over as a living space, but the booths and the wide bar against one wall hinted at what this place had been before. This woman had serious pull.

Milly seated herself at one of the decrepit booths. Lulu leaned against the wall a bit down from her, one eye on the door and half-hearted escape plans flitting through her mind. “Thank you for letting us come with you, Ms. Leslie,” Milly simpered.

“Why are you helping us?” Lulu demanded. Leslie looked at her with bland surprise. 

“My reasons are my own,” she replied. Leslie unwrapped the black shawl, removing her breather mask underneath and revealing a stylized ‘L’ tattooed under her right eye. “And I’m not Leslie. You can call me Clarice.”

“But you said you were Leslie,” Milly gasped. “Everyone thought you were!”

Lulu rolled her eyes. The pet’s jaw was hanging open. “She’s running a con on someone.”

“Hardly,” Clarice said. “Leslie is one of the Commissioners of the Strip District, with responsibilities that sometimes require her to be in several different places. I have a strong resemblance to Leslie, and it serves her that I pass as her in public.”

“So _she’s_ running a con.” Clarice didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“I’m curious,” she said, stepping over to the bar. She produced a bottle of wine older than the War and poured out three glasses worth. “It’s rare that raiders crawl out of the Pitt, and even rarer that they have the gall to come here. It’s generally a fatal proposition.”

“I was hoping we’d just get shot,” Lulu commented.

Clarice ignored her, other than to offer glasses around. “And yet here you are, and in the company of a slave no less.”

“Excuse me,” Milly snapped. “Maybe you haven’t heard yet, but the Pitt slaves overthrew the raiders. We rule the Pitt now, as free men. _She_ is _my_ slave.”

Clarice’s attention shifted, and Lulu felt her teeth grind. First the bag full of rocks, now this disrespect? “Yes, ‘Milly Free,’” Clarice mused. “That is news, isn’t it? A bit of upheaval. Complicates the local politics. Leslie and Pyotr will be interested to hear your first-hand account of what happened there.”

“I’d be happy to talk to them.” The pet had enough sense to be cautious. “Maybe we could help each other. I’m looking for a woman who might have come through the Strip District. She would have had a baby with her.”

“Haven’t seen anyone with a baby myself, but you can ask the Commissioners when you meet them. No one enters or leaves the Strip District without them knowing.” The outside door opened, and Clarice offered a slight smile at the man who stalked inside. “Hello, Micah.”

“I heard Leslie interfered with some of Pyotr’s constables,” he said. Micah was fair-skinned and skinny, but not unattractive. Lulu decided he’d be one of the slaves you had to fuck quick before the Pitt broke him and he stopped being fun.

“She did,” Clarice nodded, pouring him a glass of wine.

“And these are them?” Micah didn’t wait for an answer. “Look at them. They’ve got TDC. There are easier ways, Clarice. You could stop dyeing your hair, or just shoot yourself.”

“We can go…” Milly started.

“No, stay.” Lulu thought Clarice’s tone was somewhere between a request and an order. To Micah: “This is my home, and I’m curious to hear what they have to say.” Clarice turned to Milly. “What happened in the Pitt?”

“We got organized. We got smart.” Milly puffed out her chest. “Wernher gave the word, and we jumped the raiders with all the weapons we’d been stockpiling. We won our freedom.”

“You got the Wanderer to do all the damn work,” Lulu muttered.

Clarice frowned at Milly’s slave harness. “Why do you still wear that, if you’re free?”

“I guess…I guess I’ve never not.” Clarice beckoned Milly over, rooting around behind the bar and producing a rough knife.

“You’re only free if you can get away from the trappings of your slavery.” Clarice slid the blade between worn leather and Milly’s skin. Milly gritted her teeth as she began to saw through the harness, pulling it tight against the sores worn into her skin. Leather finally parted and Milly drew in the first deep breath she’d been able take in years. “Being…unentangled…is a precious thing,” Clarice said quietly. “Cherish it.” Then, more loudly, “That closet has clothes I can spare. Take what you can wear.”

Milly looked positively giddy, and Lulu snorted. Hadn’t the raiders given her a nice harness? And not a single thank you. Unappreciative pet.

Micah watched Milly strip down and pick her way through the closet with a look bordering on disgust. “Dressing her up isn’t going to change where she came from or who she is.” Clarice’s jaw set as he said that, keeping a stony silence. 

“I wasn’t always from the Pitt,” Milly called back from the closet, sounding miffed. “I was living with my father on the South Side before the raiders came. Even Lulu lived in the Vault before she came to the Pitt.”

Micah’s head whipped around hard, and Lulu felt her stomach drop. “You’re from the Lost Vault?”

“Uh…yeah,” Lulu glared at Milly’s back. “Left when I was a kid.” 

He was warming up to the topic worryingly fast. “What’s it like in there? Why did you leave? Is there a G.E.C.K. in the Vault? Where is it located?”

“You’ll have to forgive Micah,” Clarice interrupted, a smirk crossing her lips. “He’s University-trained, at the Cathedral of Learning. They adore science and technology.”

“Imagine the good we could do with the technology locked away in the Lost Vault,” he replied. “We could generate cheap power, grow rad-free food…”

“Yes, yes,” Clarice said with the air of someone tolerating a well-worn argument. “’Technology will save us all.’”

Milly stepped out of the closet, wearing a pair of pants and a vest of leather, with a nice pair of boots. It was interesting that regal Clarice had the clothes to dress down, but Lulu was mostly just happy that the pet distracted Micah from his interrogation. He had more wits than Milly, and there was no telling how long she could keep her lies going with him.

“When can we talk to your Commissioners?” Milly asked.

“Not for a few days yet,” Clarice replied. “The Commissioners aren’t just summoned. I’m curious though, why is this woman and her baby so important to you? Is she a raider escaping your revenge, or…”

“Well…” For a moment Lulu thought that maybe Milly would have a little bit of common sense. “She’s got the Cure. For TDC. It was something Ashur had been working on, and we took it from him. But then the Wanderer stole it from us, and…we need it back. We don’t want to have TDC anymore.”

“The _Pitt_ formulated a cure to TDC?” Micah snorted. “The University has been working on that for a decade now and gotten nothing.”

“Maybe it was something Ashur brought with him? He’s supposed to have come from far away, from the west.”

“The Pitt no longer has the Cure,” Clarice murmured. Lulu watched her expression and realized two things: Clarice already knew about the Cure, and Wernher not having it changed something, something big. She glanced over at Milly, but the pet was as oblivious as ever. “I would imagine that the Commissioners might actually want to talk to you sooner, rather than later. We’ll speak with them in the morning.”

*

The commissioner’s building from all appearances used to be another church, bigger than the one Clarice lived in. It wasn’t the tallest structure in the Strip District by far, but its position gave it a commanding view down Smallman Street and made its steeples visible from the markets on Penn Avenue.

It was guarded both by uniformed constables and by a rag-tag group whose only unifying feature was the stylized ‘L’ tattooed somewhere on their bodies. _Leslie’s people_ , Milly realized.

Clarice led Milly and Lulu into the chapel, down a row of empty pews to the long table set up in the place of the altar. Easily a dozen chairs surrounded the table, but the two people sitting had chosen those furthest from each other. The woman could have been Clarice’s twin; the resemblance around the eyes and cheeks was uncanny, though when Milly looked close the other woman was older, and Clarice’s hair more brittle. _Leslie,_ Milly decided. The other person was a large man wearing a pre-war suit. His blonde hair was cut short, and his attitude was of someone whose time was being profoundly wasted. _Pyotr_.

“Finally,” Pyotr grumbled. “I’ve serious business with the Stillers being put off for this meeting.” Clarice directed Milly and Lulu to sit in chairs at the middle of the table’s length, and circled the table to stand before the massive pipe organ opposite them.

“I’m sure the envoys are waiting for you with baited breath.” Leslie rolled her eyes. “Why did you bring her here, Clarice? She looks ill.”

“This is Milly Free, of the Pitt. She tells me that she’s here looking for someone who stole the TDC cure from Wernher.” That news focused both commissioner’s attentions immediately. _They know about the Cure already. How?_

“And do you have any idea where this cure is?” Leslie asked Milly with feigned sweetness.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here looking.”

“This concerns us,” Pyotr said. “We had an agreement with Wernher, and if he can’t deliver…”

 _What agreement?_ “I don’t understand.”

Leslie smiled. “Dear woman, you don’t believe that a handful of rabble overthrew Ashur’s raiders all on your own, do you?” She offered a faint smile at Lulu. “I think you’d agree they were very good at keeping your sort in line.” Lulu beamed back at her.

“Wernher made a deal with us. In exchange for starving Ashur of food and supplies, and recognizing him as lord of the Pitt when it was all over, he agreed to give us the cure.”

Milly took that in. _That’s it, then. Wernher doesn’t care about us. He doesn’t care if we’re healthy, he just wants his bargaining chip._ “I told you, it’s been stolen.”

“Unfortunate.” Leslie glanced to Pyotr. “What would it take for Wernher to keep our support, do you think?”

“He’d have to pay as Ashur did. Ammunition, weapons, other items from the foundry. At the same rate Ashur delivered them.”

 _Free men couldn’t keep up that pace. Wernher’d have to make us slaves again to do that. And he would, too._ “I’ll get the Cure back, I swear it.”

“We’d like to help you. Some wanderer stole it? It can’t be large if she made off with it on foot.”

“It’s…it’s a baby. A few months old. But immune to TDC. We don’t know how, but we’ll learn.” _Idiot! Why did you tell them that?_

“A baby?” Leslie shook her head. “I had one of those. Quite a mistake.” She looked at Pyotr. “I say we allow Wernher to dangle. If he can recover this baby, so much the better. If not we can remind him of the cost of betraying us at our leisure.”

“Foolishness. We know he’s lost control or else he wouldn’t desperately send slaves out looking for it. We start our own search, and revoke the deal with Wernher now.”

 _Oh god no,_ Milly thought. _They’ll make everything like it was if they find the Cure first._ For the first time Milly found herself hoping the Wanderer was far away. _We’ve had people looking longer. One of the others might have already found it. I can’t tell them anything else._

“So _typically_ hasty. Why twist Wernher now, when we could twist him after he’s stewed in his desperation a bit?” Pyotr roused himself to argue, but Leslie continued on. “Still, you have a point. We should be out looking ourselves. Clarice, please make my apologies for riling Pyotr so.” She made a small gesture and Clarice separated herself from the organ, draping herself across Pyotr’s shoulders. 

“How long has it been?” Clarice murmured, nibbling the man’s earlobe. “A week? Far too long.” For just a moment Milly caught her eye, and recognized the fear she’d thought absent from the people living in the Strip District. _Maybe they’re not so free after all._

*

Milly had sat quietly while Leslie and Pyotr bickered over some thing or another, but the instant they stood she bounded to her feet. “Thanks for your time!” she said, her voice quavering, before grabbing Lulu by the arm and dragging her outside. “ _Come on_ ,” she hissed.

Lulu followed Milly as she rushed down the street, putting the Pitt and the Strip District behind them and setting out at a run. The people they passed didn’t stop them, and Lulu didn’t doubt why; it was stupid to go out at night, and anyone who tried was usually fixing to die. The repaired buildings of the Strip District quickly gave way, leaving the ruins of cramped brick houses on either side of the street.

“They can’t find her first, they just _can’t_.” Milly leaned against one of the low houses, panting for breath after only a few hundred feet. Weak little pet. “She could be _anywhere_. We have to find her first.”

“It’s over,” Lulu shook her head. “Face it pet, the Wanderer is gone. She’s got too much of a head start and you don’t even know where she’s going. May as well start trying to think of a way you can keep the Commissioners from fucking you all up the ass.”

“ _No,_ ” Milly snarled, pissed enough that she didn’t hear Lulu call her ‘pet.’ “We are _free men_. We are _never_ putting the harnesses on again, _never_ work in the Mills again.”

“You got another plan?” Lulu demanded. “This is why you all needed us. Haven’t got a brain between all of you. You think these Strip District assholes give a fuck about free men or whatever? They’re gonna c-” She shut up at the sound of footsteps on rubble behind her.

“Look at that. Escapees.”

“Ah, fuck,” Lulu muttered. Milly’s eyes were wide as Lulu turned to see a trio of wildmen coming around from one of the houses.

“Oh no,” Milly whispered. “Oh, no.”

“Must be some stupid ones, too.” The leader was a brute; short and wide, wearing clothes that had been filthy before he’d taken them off the corpse of their last owner. “Everyone knows from the Strip District to the Bloomfield crater is our territory.”

“How much Ashur give us for returning what’s his?” another asked.

“Fifty rounds, our choice of caliber,” the first one said with a grin. “Goes a long damn way.”

“Ashur’s _dead_ ,” Milly snapped at them. “We’re no one’s slaves now.”

They laughed at that. “She _is_ stupid if she thinks we’ll believe that. This is gonna go as easy as you want it to.”

A look crossed Milly’s face and for a moment Lulu could have sworn that she actually had a spine. Milly reached behind her and pulled her gun, leveling the barrel at his eye. “Nobody’s gonna make me a slave again.”

She pulled the trigger, and it clicked.

 _Never bought bullets,_ she realized. Dammit Bill, you couldn’t have left me just one?

Lulu gaped at her. “Are you…fucking kidding me?” She turned to the wildmen. “Look, I’m a Pitt raider. You want her, she’s yours with Ashur’s compliments.”

“You’re a raider. Right. Stupid.” The leader cracked his knuckles. “I don’t wanna have to carry the two of them all that way back, so make sure not to hurt their legs too bad. Hurting the rest of ‘em is fine.”

“You’re gonna need more than three, bitch,” Lulu snapped. “Any one raider’s worth fi-”

Milly planted her foot in the small of Lulu’s back and kicked, shoving the other woman into the wildmen’s arms. Lulu shouted in surprise, caught tight in their grip and Milly ran.

“ _Fucker_!” Lulu screamed as one of the wildmen wrestled her down. The other two bolted after Milly, but the skinny bitch could fly. “Let me go! I’m a raider dammit, you know what Ashur’s gonna do to you for messing with me?”

“Guess we’ll ask him when we get you to the Pitt,” the man smirked, wrenching her arm behind her back.

Lulu’s breath caught in her throat. What would Wernher do, if she got dragged back to the Pitt without Milly? “He’ll kill me,” she gasped. “I can’t go back!”

“They always say that,” the man grunted.

*

_Not getting caught, not getting caught!_ Milly screamed to herself as she pounded down the street. She dodged down one side street, then another, pain etching itself into her side with each jagged breath. She ran until her body convulsed, throwing her to her knees where she puked up her stomach. She spun feebly, empty gun up to ward off the wildmen, but there was no one behind her. She’d lost them, or they’d gotten bored with the chase.

“Oh god. Oh god.” _Oh, god. It’s the same. It’s the Steelyard all over again. ‘Do this thing for me and be rewarded, or die.’ Wernher’s the same as Ashur. If we lose the Cure the Commissioners will come down on him and it’ll be EXACTLY THE SAME AS IT WAS BEFORE._ She wiped vomit off her chin and hugged knees to her chest. _We’re fucked. It’s never going to change._

A single sound cut through her thoughts. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. 

A baby’s cry.

 _Maybe. Just maybe, please…_ It was nearby, and Milly staggered to her feet. She waited for another wail and when it came broke into a trot. It was coming from one of the houses, and she eased the front door open. Her boots crunched on broken glass spread across the hallway. _That’s weird, the glass in the door isn’t broken-_

A flash of movement down the hall, and Milly felt a hammer blow to the gut. The blast lifted her off her feet and threw her back out the door onto the sidewalk outside. Milly felt at the wet mass that was her belly, eyes wide with disbelief. _What…what the hell?_

She heard footsteps and a long, high scream, then motion beside her. Hands rifled through her clothes, found Bill’s gun and tossed it aside. The woman leaned over her and for a moment Milly’s view was obstructed by the baby strapped to the other woman’s chest. _It’s her. The Wanderer. So close…_ The woman stood suddenly, and was gone.

“Wait,” Milly rasped. “Wait. We met before.” No one answered, and the swirls of smog in the night’s sky were fading into darkness. “You were supposed to help us. I’m Milly…free.”


End file.
